by Michele Hauf
“Maybe. I think King is too smart for that.”
“Yes, well, fortunately, Bunny is not. She puts on a good show. But beneath the bravado she’s a woman desperate for love and attention. Allow me to work my charm.”
“Oh, brother. Do I have to stand by and watch?”
Dante batted at a bee that buzzed near his head. “I promise it won’t get out of hand.”
“I don’t get it,” Kyler said as their stroll angled them toward the insectarium. “Wasn’t Marguerite de Valois like sixty years old when she died? The chick who sucked on your tonsils at the café was still in her twenties.”
“A clever imposter, the queen most read about in the history books,” Dante provided, having heard the whole detailed story from Marguerite over truffles and wine one evening. “The real Margot de Valois only reigned about ten years. Her brother Charles was instrumental in making sure history was ever unaware that the royal family had turned to vampirism. He transformed their brother, Henri, as well, though Margot is unsure whether or not he still lives. Damn. I had never put it together after all these years. That the leader of a band of vampire hunters was possibly a real king and he was also a vampire.”
“But you wouldn’t have believed he could kill his own kind.”
“Knowing now that King is Charles IX, former Valois, and king of France? Oh, yes, I believe he could commit genocide. The man comes from Catherine de Médici’s womb. The entire family was bloodthirsty and vile. Bunny!”
A simmer of buzzing insects lured Dante to the edge of the pebbled walkway, and he eyed a hemp rope bee skep. Leaning against the massive conical thing, one elbow propped on the skep and bees buzzing around her like the queen she was, stood Marguerite de Valois, former queen of France and Navarre—aka Bunny.
The vampiress, still clad in the sexy black dress and thigh-high boots, flipped her long hair over a shoulder and approached. A halo of bees orbited above her head. None of them seemed eager to sting or touch down on her pale, moon-showered skin.
“I see you brought along the mouse.” Bunny sighed dramatically. “You’ve really got to watch out for your reputation, Dante.”
“The only thing that may tarnish my reputation’s shine is a certain leather-clad rabbit.”
“And what fun such tarnish would bring.” She fluttered her lashes and licked her upper lip.
“I don’t have the egg,” Dante announced bluntly. At Bunny’s dropped jaw, he explained about finding the locker at the train station ripped open. “It was obvious who committed such vandalism. The wolves have it. I’m not sure which pack they were from, though. We encountered them on a few occasions while in Venice.”
“So that’s that?” Bunny asked. “You can’t find the thing—now you’re just going to walk away?’
“What do you want me to do? Help you find something that will give your brother the power to destroy not only Kyler and myself but all the vampires in Paris? I think I’m good with stepping back and letting you handle this one now. You have all the information I have. Wolves have the Nécessaire egg. You can go to the Gare du Nord and scent them out yourself. As for Kyler and I...” He clasped her hand. “We’re done with you. And your brother is done with Kyler. She has performed the task he asked of her. It isn’t her fault it was stolen from her.”
Bunny stepped up and shook a fist at them. “She fucked it all up is what she did. I should take her out right—”
Dante slammed a hand around Bunny’s tiny fist. “Stop. Step back. Think this one through. I know things about your brother now that I’m sure he would like to keep a secret from the Council. If you so much as disturb the air about Kyler, I will retaliate. You and King back off. Got it?”
Bunny drew a pouting gaze over Kyler and lifted her nose in mockery. “She’s not worth it, Dante.” And she strode off, heels crunching the loose gravel at the edge of the sidewalk, a spin of bees still dancing above her head. “This isn’t over!” she called over a shoulder. “Not until we have that damned egg.”
“Your charm was sorely lacking,” Kyler commented. “Good show.”
Dante exhaled and pulled her into an embrace. He knew it wasn’t over. He’d never expected Bunny would walk away and let them go on living their lives in peace. He’d threatened King. And he’d meant it. And Bunny knew that.
“We’re not safe, are we?” Kyler asked.
He kissed the crown of her head. “You’re always safe with me, Kitten. I give you my word. Let’s go back to your place. I want to make love to you.”
“Why? Because you need to work off the horny vibes from Bunny?”
“No, because I want to feel you against my skin. And taste you in my mouth.”
She tugged him to a stop. The look on her face was doubtful.
“You are jealous of Bunny?”
She sighed. “She was right. I’m not worth it. I got you into this mess, but I really should try—”
He grabbed her, pulling her against him and pressing a hard, bruising kiss to her mouth. She initially struggled but quickly relented, grasping his shirt and melding her curves to his hard structure. She fit him like no other. He wasn’t sure why she still felt she had to struggle against him. Didn’t she understand what she meant to him?
No, she could not, because he’d yet to speak it in words.
“You are worth so much more to me than you can ever imagine, Kyler. Remember...I like you.”
Her lashes fluttered. Her eyes looked from one of his to the other. She didn’t speak but instead nodded. And he was glad she didn’t question him. Even if only a few simple words, he’d spoken from his heart. And he meant it. Because he wanted to make her his. For longer than he, a self-professed Casanova who might never settle down with one woman, could feasibly imagine.
Chapter 17
Bunny strode down the limestone-walled hallway toward her brother’s office. She had been given access to the Order’s headquarters centuries earlier, and despite Charles changing the access code on her many times, she still managed to get in. Because no one was going to keep her out of anything.
She did not enjoy walking these weirdly cold stone hallways beneath a Catholic church. They still, apparently, held services on Sundays. She had been baptized, and while there was no need to go through the actual church to access the Order headquarters, being this close gave her a shiver.
That she could no longer kneel before the cross and worship the God who had given her life disturbed her. She’d never come to terms with that. And while her family had a history of using religion in the most wicked and foul ways possible, she still believed. She was a good Catholic girl.
Who liked to bite.
And she was also the girl who was so over trying to help her brother destroy vampires. He could have his little boy’s club and poke the occasional vampire with a pointy stick. But lay flat an entire population? It reeked of the St. Bartholomew’s Day massacre that had destroyed her wedding party in the sixteenth century (not to mention a few thousand Huguenots; no loss there).
Yet Bunny wasn’t taking any credit for that.
She knocked on the office door and entered before her brother could invite her in. She’d been in here before. Didn’t need an invitation.
Charles moved swiftly to stand before his desk, hands behind him. An oddly suspicious look brightened into a rare smile and she paused before him, hands on her hips. “What’s up, brother dearest?”
“Nothing,” he said. Which meant everything.
“I wasn’t able to get—”
“This.” He moved aside. He’d never been able to keep a secret from her for long. On the desktop sat a gold egg embellished with sparkling gemstones. It was about the size of a human skull.
“What the hell?” Bunny lunged for it, but her brother caught her wrist. “Where did that come from? Dante said wolves stole it from the train sta
tion locker—wait. Do you have werewolves working for you? Did you even need my help?” She shoved him away from her and stalked behind the desk. “I am done with this undermining bullshit! You’re always second-guessing me and sending in the cavalry.”
“If I recall correctly, you’ve been in need of just such bullshit over the centuries.”
Ignoring his statement of the obvious, she grabbed the egg and shook it. It clattered as if there were a hidden surprise inside.
“How do you open this thing?”
“I have no idea.” Charles put up a leg on the corner of the desk and watched her play with it. “I suspect D’Arcangelo is one of the very few who has that knowledge.”
“Why would he know?”
“Because he owned the thing for decades. It was given to him by Zara Destry for safe keeping. After she stole the spell from me while I had The Vampire Codex in possession.”
“Zara Destry,” Bunny said with all the vitriol she held for the fruity piece of sunshine and murder.
That vampire bitch had been transforming males against their wills for centuries, biting them and running off. She’d changed Dante, leaving him with little knowledge of what to do about his sudden craving for blood. And a broken heart. Of course, he had asked for it. Poor little boy who’d lost his courtesan mother because she couldn’t handle growing old. Fortunately Bunny had come along to teach Dante a few things. Whether or not those things had anything to do with vampirism was something she couldn’t recall or care about.
“How did D’Arcangelo know werewolves had taken it?” Charles asked. “Careful with that, Margot.”
She set the thing down with a clunk, then sat on the plush leather office chair with an equal lack of grace. Crossing her arms, she hiked the heels of her boots up onto the desk corner. “He said it was obvious by the claw marks torn through the steel locker where he’d stashed this thing at the train station. Your thugs were indiscreet.”
“They got the job done.”
“You sent me after Dante, knowing you had already sent out the wolves. And since when do you work with fucking werewolves? I thought that Remington asshole almost burned you recently?”
“Remington Caufield is a minor annoyance. Besides, I’ve relegated him to the States. Out of sight, out of mind.”
Bunny knew differently. Caufield was in possession of some very damning letters sent from Charles to a particular werewolf female. Postmarked mid-nineteenth century. Proof of some illegitimate half-wolf/half-vamp children? That was one secret with which Charles would never trust her.
Her brother didn’t notice her annoyance. “And if I do something kind for a pack, I expect returned kindness.”
Bunny scoffed. “Since when does the king hand out kindnesses?”
“Sister dearest, why are you so down on me? Have I ever harmed you, taken a hand to you or otherwise done anything to frighten you?”
The man seemed to forget their early years, the mortal years when her brothers had loved her—too intimately. And roughly. She’d welcomed the liaisons, not knowing any better at the time, and finding a sexual alliance with a brother had always been useful for court intrigues. They had saved her ass on more than a few occasions when her mother would have fed her to the human wolves to secure a political alliance. The woman had been infamous for ordering her enemies’ deaths by her favorite weapon: poison.
Charles had transformed Margot to vampire, much to her protestations. She’d wanted to reign as queen, not be replaced by some idiot lookalike to sit the throne in her absence. That woman had gone on to write her memoirs as if she really were the actual queen of France! Ridiculous. Of course, she’d gotten fat. Served the bitch right. On the other hand, it was those puffy-faced illustrations of her that had been preserved in history books. So wrong.
And yet Bunny had come to embrace vampirism, and could never be sorry for such a gift. As well, she was thankful for being saved the indignity of sharing a bed with the insipid Henri de Navarre.
“Yes, well...” She flipped her hair over a shoulder. “Dante didn’t seem all that upset that the egg was gone. Told me to run along, that the matter was our concern now.”
“Really?” Charles leaned forward, pressing his knuckles onto the desk. His intense brown gaze both attracted and horrified her. He had grown hard over the centuries. Adamant. There was no hope for his wretched soul. “Tell me truthfully—you don’t think he’ll continue to search for it?”
She shrugged. “I think he gave up. Seemed kind of relieved to have the thing out of hand. Truthfully. He took his mousy girlfriend’s hand and walked away. And I don’t feel as though it was an act. I do know when a man lies to me.”
“Damn it!” Charles smashed a fist onto the table.
The egg wobbled, and Bunny reached to catch it with both hands. “What is it?”
“There’s no spell inside that egg. D’Arcangelo has taken it out. The physical egg is of no value to either of us. It’s always been what is inside. The spell, damn it, the spell!”
Bunny rapped her fingernails on the desktop. So Dante had gotten one over on her. And for some reason, she didn’t mind tossing him the point. “Maybe that’s a good thing. I can’t say I’m behind you destroying an entire city of vampires, Charles—”
“It is King,” he said through a tight jaw. “And the spell is merely the catalyst to what I really desire.”
Bunny tilted her head, stuck out her tongue and rolled it along her upper lip. “Of course, it can’t be as easy as that for you. What are you after, brother dearest?”
“Super immortality.”
“What?” She laughed. “I don’t even know what that means. Wait. Is this the eternity stuff you wanted me on board with? This is getting complicated.”
“It’s actually very simple.” Charles strode around the side of the desk, opened the top drawer and pulled out a yellowed piece of paper about the size of a notebook sheet with the bottom torn away. It was nearly brown with age and featured tiny black scrawls in a language Bunny couldn’t interpret.
“This is from The Vampire Codex,” he said. “I managed to briefly get the book, stolen from a retriever in the nineteenth century. It is a spell to grant me eternity. The missing part on the bottom? It was torn away by Zara fucking Destry. She hid it away, or perhaps she gave it to Dante immediately to get me off her scent. I only later learned he’d been its keeper. No matter. It is the key part to the spell which, I’m told, requires the ashes of a thousand vampires. See this?”
He traced a small red half circle at the bottom of the page where the spell had been torn away. Bunny thought it looked like a snake. And then she realized it was a snake eating its tail, a symbol of eternity.
Yet while it sounded good in theory, she still didn’t understand. “Charles, you have immortality. What more is there?”
“A guarantee to never die, not by stake, beheading or holy object. I would be immune to holy objects, Margot! Can you imagine? We could be immune! Never again to have to flee because a simple Bible has been thrust before me.” He rubbed his hand, studying the side of it briefly.
“Yes, that sounds awesome. But—I don’t know. Killing so many to achieve something you can only give to one or two vampires? That’s not right.”
He gaped at her.
“I know.” She felt the need to continue. “Our family has committed horrible crimes over the years. Well, I have not. I mean, I try not to. Charles. Please. You’re depressed, yes? Maybe you need a vacation? To step down from heading this stupid little club of yours and go off and...have a real life. Take a wife. Make a family. Don’t you want to hear the patter of little feet as they gnash out and test their fangs?”
He slammed his hand on the desk before her. His fangs lowered, indicating not that he would lunge for her, only that she had pushed him to anger. “I will have this! I deserve this peace. No
one has suffered more for the common people. And even now, I protect them from the dangerous and deranged vampires who would mark them as their dinner target.”
Her brother had never lost the pompous entitlement of royalty. Not that there was anything wrong with that. She kept her crown in a safe-deposit box, and occasionally stopped by to try it on. But their reigns had ended centuries ago. And Charles could not rule over the vampires while also executing them.
Bunny pulled her feet down and leaned forward, meeting her brother’s gaze. “You would sacrifice thousands for one?”
“I will. With the spell enacted by the warlock I have engaged to assist me and the ash of a thousand vampires. I will collect that ash.”
“A warlock, eh? Ian Grim?”
King drew a breath through his nose, pacing a few steps toward the door and pressing a hand to the wall near it. He looked over his shoulder at her. “I won’t involve Grim. That man...he’s—you do know who he is?”
She shrugged. “A fucking warlock. Been around since—hell, long as I can remember.”
King shrugged. “He’s...almost family to me.”
“I don’t get that. I’ve never been introduced to him. He’s not my family.”
“Rook is also like a brother to me.”
“Yes, I know that.”
Rook was King’s second hand, his ally; they had been friends since the early seventeenth century. They stood side by side, slaying vampires in the name of Charles’s twisted sense of vengeance for being turned into a vampire himself. Who would ever expect a vampire behind the Order of the Stake? Not even the Council.
“What Grim means to me is not your concern,” he said. “Instead, I’ve hired the warlock Boa to enact the spell.”
Bunny swore. She’d heard that name only once. And it had been muttered as a vile welcome to all that was truly evil and malicious. And while she did enjoy living on the edge and pushing life to the limits—she was ever wary immortality did come with an asterisk that detailed “avoid stakes”—if Charles were bringing in the warlock, she preferred to leave the immediate vicinity.
